Cigarettes
by simba317
Summary: Remy contemplates and lets go. Plus my answer to why he quit smoking. Yes, I'm on an angst kick, ROMY!


**Disclaimer:** You know the drill…

**Author's Notes: **I don't know if you guys have noticed…but I have this self quota of making sure to always have at least one update up from myself a month…and well, April's been weird and I feel guilty…so I'll send you a oneshot. I've been busy…I have an IB exam coming up…so thing's are gonna be more than a little chaotic for me. But I'll be back…at the risk of sounding like Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger…

This is a guilt induced completely spontaneous piece of fiction done while doing a multiple of things, including chatting to a friend on MSN, and posting on a forum…lol. I heart multitasking. I guess it's a drabble…my answer to the question why Remy would quit smoking.

**CIGARETTES**

* * *

Embers, glowing and bright glowed, flickered and flashed, hot and burning, pieces of visible heat like that of the sun. A simple flick and a fleck took a graceful dive off the roof before extinguishing forever in the darkness. Smoke like a specter danced, and spiraled away in wisps, from the tainted white tip, a mesmerizing dance, visible in the black night. It had shrink to an unusable stub, nothing left but a hint of white with the tan end. It met the tiles of the roof in a swift end to it's blinking life and was tossed over the edge, disappearing forever, like everything in his life. 

His chocolate brown trench coat billowed in the night, a hero's cape that was ill fit to a wolf like him. Coppery auburn hair fluttered in the breezy night air, model perfect, but he was anything but. He was unkempt, but no matter what state he was in, he was still devastatingly handsome. It was a shallow sort of forgiveness to a less than happy life that beauty was, so that it wasn't really anything at all. Strange, yet wondrous eyes breached the darkness of the inky black night, lacking in stars or moon, unnaturally dark. They were luminous glowing rubies on a bed of shining onyx, rare like he was and unique…but speaking of more horror, sorrow and anguish than any should have to bear.

Dusty jeans clung to his legs, and his black booted feet hung haphazardly off the roof, not caring much if he were to plunge to the unforgiving earth several floors down. The black T-shirt was worn and had seen better days and too many days as well. The man shook another cigarette free from a box that had inhabited his trench coat untouched for a few years, and placed the stick casually in his mouth, damning the consequences. He moved the cigarette between his lips from one side of his mouth to the other, fiddling with it with familiar precision before moving an oddly gloved hand to the tip of it, lighting it with a simple touch. The tip of the cigarette glowed a reddish pink before it ignited and the nicotine flooded his mouth and into his lungs.

He inhaled and then breathed out the smoke, using his thumb and index finger to hold the cigarette as he blew it out, watching as it seeped out of him, masochistically wondering if it'd shave off a few years in his worthless existence.

The man had no idea how long he had been smoking on the roof, or how long he had been on there caught up in his reverie. But it ended with the sweet sound of a sultry southern voice.

"Ah didn' know ya smoked, Remy," she said, standing behind him. Remy could almost imagine the expression on her face, a mix of disgust and concern, the color of her enchanting eyes and the twirling of her hair, reddish auburn, with pure white streaks in the cool night air.

He exhaled slowly, savoring the burning sensation he felt and told her, "I did."

Brushing her hair back away from her face, she slowly stalked to his position on the roof, and sat down a hair's breath away from him, tucking her knees under her chin and wrapping her arms around them, eerily staring at the earth a death's distance down. She stayed there in silence for awhile and let him smoke.

At long last, she spoke.

"Ya know…Ah don't think ya lungs appreciate being tha target of yoah self-punishment," she said softly, understanding completely, more so than she should.

A quick movement of his hand, a product of his training that was too fast for her to react to, lead to the vice grip on her forearm, and the subsequent flipping to move the palm up and hike up the sleeve to her long sleeved cotton tee, revealing silvery etchings on her wrist, aged and faded.

"Don t'ink y' wrists eit'er, Chere," he whispered almost harshly, yet an overwhelming amount of grief could be seen in his eyes that she, so undeserving should suffer so.

It didn't matter how he said it, just that he did, and that anytime he called her 'Chere', it wore at her encased heart just a little more.

They shared the look of understanding between a pair of self loathers. So much torment passed between them, a mutual concern for the other's well being…and something more.

"It was a long time ago…" she whispered, breaking his penetrating gaze and jerking her arm away and pulling the sleeve down safely to meet the short gloves encasing her hands.

"Yeah…not long enough…" he replied.

"It nevah is and it nevah will beh," implored Rogue, "just…please…" She left the other words unspoken…'Tell me…let go…" She looked with him with those eyes, begging, all that distress and worry in her emerald eyes and he knew that it was time, because there are few sure things in life, yet one was that he could never deny those eyes. And he couldn't figure out if they'd be his downfall or his blessing.

"Today's not yoah fault, it isn't now and it won't be ever…it wasn't mine either…" she placed a covered hand on his shoulder and he knew that she was there to listen and never to judge and looking into her eyes, he knew that it'd always ring true.

He sighed, tossing the stick off the roof, letting another die, because he knew she didn't approve at all. He did that a lot lately, and she'd never know just how much she had him wound between her fingers.

"Dey remind me of her…" he began staring into the empty black of the night, "Her crimson red lipstick smeared around a cigarette dat she'd just finished smoking encased around her lips, de same crimson as dose 40s era glamour actresses. And she really was an actress Chere…Gen…y' know what happened next…" Silence.

"So are y' gonna be an actress, Chere?" he asked the question of her, searching her eyes, waiting painfully for her answer…hating that after all his lessons, he still set himself up for heartbreak. Still, would she be the next heartbreaker?

She stared back bravely, challenged and not backing down, "Ah don' know, Remy, it depends on you…" It came out more desperate and weak than she wanted to.

"…if Ah'll hafta live pretendin' lahke none of this matters, that Ah won't die if ya deny it all and hafta damn your name and scream until Ah cahn't no mo'…it depends on you…" she finished with a faint whisper, locked in his gaze, she couldn't hide anymore, not now, not ever, not from him.

She was sincere with him, and he believed her, always did.

He ran his fingers through her fluttering white bangs, before brushing it behind her ear to trace the line of her cheek with his covered thumb, giving her a look with a thousand words attached leading to but a single meaning.

"Good," Remy whispered, before pulling her into a tight embrace, clutching to her, trying for forever, glad that she clung just as tightly, because it was all they could do, his voice broke slightly with the overwhelming emotion, "'cause I don' want y' to."

* * *

I hope you liked that. I'll admit I'm on an angstkick as of late…I'm kinda bored with fics that don't have a good dallop of it…I really liked the way this turned out…it was simple…Remy kind of resolved some issues…he started to let go and I just really like the ambiance and symbolism. 

I suppose it's loosely inspired by the angst queens...they know who they are...lol. I'll try to get off my ass and back into tip top uber long reviewing form soon after my IB exams.

Ooh…to make you all happy, the Marvel Fairy Tales #3 will be a 'Southern Ghost story'…Rogue is a median to the spirits and Mystique employs her skills, being evil and all that, and it's up to Remy to set things right…The best part…they can touch…Rogue doesn't have her powers! W00t!

Be an author's friend and review. I'll love you forever.

simba317


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